eemed as if dancing
through the air. I was not less delighted by the sight of two wild
peacocks. It afforded me peculiar pleasure to see these animals in
a state of freedom, which we Europeans are accustomed to keep as
rarities, like exotic plants.

The peacock is here somewhat larger than any I had seen in Europe;
the display of colours also, and the general brilliancy of the
plumage, struck me as being finer and brighter.

These birds are considered by the Indians almost as sacred as the
cow. They appear to fully understand this kindness, for they are
seen, like house-birds, walking about in the villages or quietly
resting upon the roofs. In some districts, the Indians are so
prejudiced in their favour, that no European can venture to shoot
one of them without exposing himself to the greatest insults. Only
four months since, two English soldiers fell victims to this neglect
of Hindostanee customs. They killed several peacocks; the enraged
people fell upon them and ill-used them in such a way that they
shortly afterwards died.

Fattipoor Sikri stands upon a hill; the fortress walls, the mosque,
and other buildings can therefore be seen from a distance. On both
sides of the road, a short distance outside the walls, lie remains
of houses or single apartments, fragments of handsome columns, etc.
With great regret I saw the natives breaking many of them, and
converting them into building materials for their houses.

The entrance to the fortress and town was through three handsome
gates, and over masses of rubbish and fragments. The view which
here presents itself is much more impressive than that at Pompeii,
near Naples. There, indeed, everything is destroyed, but it is
another and more orderly kind of destruction--streets and squares
appear as clean as if they had only been abandoned yesterday.
Houses, palaces, and temples are free from rubbish; even the track
of the carriages remain uneffaced. Pompeii, moreover, stands on a
plain, and it cannot, therefore, be seen at one glance; its extent,
too, is scarcely half so great as that of Sikri; the houses are
smaller, the palaces not so numerous, and inferior in splendour and
magnitude. But here a larger space is covered with magnificent
buildings, mosques, kiosks, columned halls, and arcades, with
everything that was in the power of art to create; and no single
object has escaped the destructive influence of time--all is falling
into ruin. It is scarcely mor